


summer days with you

by souzu



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Coming of Age, Gen, Haechan is mentioned once, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Terminal Illness, Language of Flowers, Mark Lee (NCT)-centric, Strangers to Friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25442242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/souzu/pseuds/souzu
Summary: Mark's eyes trailed across from the empty patio to the long wooden fence that separated his grandmother’s house from the ever-growing forest that he was banned from entering. He had no intention to disobey his grandmother, and he had heard from the neighboring boy that there were mountain spirits who lived there. Mark didn’t know exactly what a mountain spirit was, but he didn’t want to find out.or: Mark spends every summer holiday at his grandmother's, where he forms an expected friendship.
Relationships: Dong Si Cheng | WinWin & Mark Lee
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	summer days with you

**Author's Note:**

> Sweet Peas— A thank you flower; a way to bid someone goodbye after a pleasant visit.

Summer had never felt so long before.

Mark wasn’t sure whether or not the summer holidays were meant to be as boring as this. His figure was hunched under a magnolia tree while the shadows of the leaves shaded him from the glaring sun. In his left hand, he clutched onto a plastic handheld fan— fanning himself whenever he felt his face become too warm. In his right, he held onto a slice of watermelon that his grandmother had cut up for him before she left to tend the vegetables.

He finished the last few bites of his huge watermelon slice and stood up to stretch out his body. His eyes trailed across from the empty patio to the long wooden fence that separated his grandmother’s house from the ever-growing forest that he was banned from entering. Mark had no intention to disobey his grandmother, and he had heard from the neighboring boy that there were mountain spirits who lived there. Mark didn’t know _exactly_ what a mountain spirit was, but he didn’t want to find out. 

He was about to turn around and return back into the house before he saw it— a shape, slightly moving from behind one of the trees in the forbidden forest. He squinted slightly and could just make it out to be the silhouette of a man. Mark couldn’t see much, but the most distinctive feature he found was the man’s silver hair— silver hair! Mark had never seen anybody with silver hair in his entire life.

Mark found himself dragging his feet across the patio until he was up against the fence. “Hello?” he shouted out into the forest, hoping that the silver-haired man would answer. The figure behind the trees moved a bit, rustling the bushes around it. “Hello?!” Mark tried again, louder.

This time, the man came out from behind the tree. He didn’t move closer, much to Mark’s dismay. “Are you new here?!” Mark shouted again, he was scared that the man wouldn’t be able to hear him. “I’ve never seen you here before!”

The man shook his head and Mark continued. “You should get out of the forest! There are mountain spirits who live there!” There was a moment of silence as the man stared at Mark. 

He then took a step forward.

And another. 

And another. 

He kept walking until he reached the other side of the fence, opposite from Mark. The man tilted his head to the side, observing the little boy who stood across from him. “You can see me?” 

The man’s voice was deep. His hair and voice reminded Mark of those cartoon superheroes he would watch on television at home. Mark nodded, responding to the man’s question. “You should really get out of the forest. The mountain spirits are dangerous,” he warned.

“Dangerous, you say?” the man hummed. “They’re not dangerous. Don’t worry.”

Mark scrunched up his face. “How would you know? All my friends tell me that spirits are mean!” He then tried to stick his hand through the slits in the fence to grab onto the man’s shirt, but the man took a step backwards just in time. 

“Little boy, what’s your name?”

Mark looked straight into the man’s eyes. “Mark. Mark Lee. I’m eight this year.” 

“Mark,” the man repeated, before smiling. “Nice to meet you, Mark.”

The younger boy smiled back, trailing his finger up and down the fence. “What’s your name?” he asked the man. 

The man opened his mouth to say something, but before a sound could leave him, he was interrupted by Mark’s grandmother calling him back inside.

The man looked over to the old house behind Mark. “You should head back.”

Mark shook his head. He had just made a new friend and wanted to play with him a little more. 

The man could tell that Mark wasn’t going to budge. “I’ll see you again soon, okay?” 

“When?” Mark questioned, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. He didn’t want to leave his new friend behind. 

The man bent down a little until he was at eye-level with Mark. He looked at him through the slits in the fence. “I promise I’ll see you soon,” he paused. “Do you believe me?”

Mark nodded, staring at him with big, curious eyes. “I believe you,” he says quietly.

Then he slowly turned his back towards the man and took big strides back into the house. Before entering, he took one last look back to see if the man was still there.

But he was gone.

* * *

  
The silver-haired man _was_ right when he said he would see Mark again soon. 

A few days later, Mark spotted the silver-haired man standing on the opposite side of the fence like last time. The weather had cooled down a lot compared to the last time Mark saw the man, the summer breeze gently messing up his neat hair. 

“Hello,” the man mused. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Mark excitedly ran up towards the fence once he realised the silver-haired man came back. “Mister! It’s you again!” he happily exclaimed. “I missed you!”

The man laughed softly and Mark felt a sudden wave of warmth engulf him, much like when his mother tucked him tightly in bed on a cold winter night. 

“Mister, where do you live?” Mark asked, resting his upper body against the fence, arms hanging off the opposite side. “Why are you always in the forest?” 

The man pursed his lips together. “I _live_ in the forest,” he said.

Mark furrowed his eyebrows together. “In the forest? People can’t live in the forest.”

The man didn’t reply.

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Mark blurted out, eager to know the answer to the question. 

The man sighed a little and tucked his hands in his pockets. He looked down at the grass beneath his feet as if he was guilty of something. 

A moment of silence fell between them.

Once the man saw the look of disappointment on Mark’s face, he decided to speak up again. “I don’t have a name,” the man said quietly. “You can give me one.”

Mark was confused. How come this man didn’t have a name? All his friends including himself had names. Their parents gave them names. Maybe this man didn’t have parents? Mark was taught not to ask questions about others’ parents or else he’d get into trouble so he decided to not push it.

While staring at the red shirt the man was wearing, a quick image of a yellow cartoon bear Mark used to watch flashed in his head. “Winnie…” Mark murmured under his breath. Then he got it. “I’ll call you WinWin!”

His eyes twinkled as he looked up towards the man. “Do you like it? WinWin?”

The man nodded, his silver hair reflecting the sun’s rays. “Of course.”

Mark was about to open the fence to invite WinWin into the house but the sudden call of his grandmother’s voice startled him. He turned back to apologise to WinWin, but he had already disappeared, as if he had never been there.

* * *

A few weeks passed without seeing WinWin and it was time for Mark to head back to the city. He was packing up his clothes with his grandmother in the room he had gotten used to over the summer holidays, until he caught a glimpse of silver passing through the trees out of the corner of his eye. His eyes followed the clump of silver hair outside the house and once he finished packing, he rushed out to the patio.

“WinWin!”

Mark almost threw himself over the fence. 

“Little one,” WinWin said. “Sorry I haven’t visited, I had some things I needed to tend to.”

Mark shook his head and smiled. “It’s okay, WinWin!” He lowered his voice and whispered to the man, “But I’m going away tomorrow. I won’t see you again until next year.” 

WinWin nodded understandingly. “I see,” he hummed. “I’ll miss you.”

Mark’s eyes lit up. “I’ll miss you too! I can’t wait to tell all my friends about you!” 

The older one frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Mark,” he said as he placed a hand on the younger one’s head, patting him. “They might not believe you.”

Mark raised an eyebrow. What did WinWin mean by _‘not believe you’_? Of course his friends would believe him. Maybe he could make new friends once he told everyone a silver haired man was friends with him, and maybe he could bring his friends over next time so that they could meet WinWin.

Their conversation was cut short by Mark’s grandmother calling him back. However, this time instead of heading back into the house, he was called to the parked car that was in his grandmother’s drive-way.

“I’ve got to go now,” Mark said. “I’ll see you next year!” He turned his back and waved goodbye to the older brother who lived in the forest. 

* * *

The rest of the year passed and Mark’s memories of WinWin seemed to become a distant memory, chucked to the back of his mind. When he boasted about meeting a silver haired man who lived in the forest, his friends all laughed at him and thought he was lying. When he told his parents of his new-found friend, they just frowned and gave a phone call to his grandmother, concerned. Mark didn’t understand why they all acted like that, but he knew that if he continued to talk about WinWin, he would be judged by the people around him. And so he kept quiet , and the silver-haired man became just a mere breeze in his memory. 

* * *

The next summer holidays came and Mark was ready for another month of boredom at his grandmother’s house. He wasn’t sure whether or not he’d find joy lying outside under the hot sun with barely any internet. Yet, his heart was pumping with thrill and exhilaration as soon as he got out of the car. Something at the back of his mind screamed at him to go into the forest, but Mark knew better. 

Despite that, he vaguely remembered that something had happened at his grandmother’s house during the holidays _last_ summer. Something he was excited about, something he had forgotten. 

But Mark shook it off. Well, he _did_ until a familiar silver-haired man greeted him at the fence the very next day.

“Win...Win?” Mark slowly said as he walked up towards the fence. “WinWin?” He scanned the look on the silver-haired man’s face as he got closer towards the piece of wood that separated the house from the ‘forbidden’ forest. 

The man, or _WinWin_ , looked surprised for a second. “You remember me?”

Mark didn’t want to seem rude and reply with ‘ _barely_ ,’ so he just simply nodded. “How could I forget a silver-haired man?”

The corners of WinWin’s lips curved up. “Thank you for remembering me.”

* * *

What Mark thought would be another month of boredom turned out to be one of the best summer holidays he had ever had. He had managed to sneak out into the forbidden forest without his grandmother noticing, and there he played tag with WinWin. WinWin showed him lots of cool things. He caught a beetle for Mark once and Mark had tried to bring it back to keep as a pet, but then he was told to throw it out by his grandmother. 

* * *

And much like what adults say, time passes by fast when you’re having fun. School was starting in a few days and Mark had to say goodbye to WinWin once again.

“I’ll come again next year,” Mark said to the silver-haired man whilst he was attempting to catch another beetle for Mark to take home. “I promise I won’t forget you this time!”

WinWin’s movements stopped for a second. “ _This time_?” He tilted his head as he looked at Mark. “Did you forget about me last year?”

Mark felt the blood drain away from his face. “No,” he mumbled quietly. “Never.”

WinWin laughed. “I’m just teasing you,” he said as he brought his hand up to pat Mark on the head. “I’m not mad. I’m happy you came back.”

* * *

Seeing WinWin on the hottest days of the year became a common occurrence for Mark. Each year, once the school year ended, Mark would go to the convenience store next to his house to see what he could bring to WinWin. 

This year, at the ripe age of thirteen, Mark held a gifted red scarf in his hands. His mother had questioned him about it, asking him why he was bringing a scarf despite it being summer, but Mark avoided the questions and simply told her it was a gift for somebody.

“What’s this?” WinWin asked, holding up the dark coloured scarf Mark threw at his face the moment he arrived. 

“It’s a scarf for you,” Mark said, settling himself onto a rock that was stationed across from the taller male. “I found out that it snows here in winter, and I _never_ see you in anything other than short sleeves and those ugly pants, so I thought you might get cold.” He grabbed a stick off the ground and pointed it at WinWin. “I don’t want you to get sick, you know?”

WinWin raised an eyebrow. “I can’t get sick,” he said. “I’m a mountain spirit.” He then frowned and looked down at his pants, before looking back up at Mark. “And my pants are _not_ ugly! Have you seen _your_ shirts?”

Mark ignored him and poked the ground with his stick. “If you don’t like it I can take it back.”

Silence fell between them as WinWin stared at Mark and the scarf he held in his arms. Finally, he spoke. “Thank you. It _does_ get kind of cold here in the winter.” 

The younger boy smiled slightly. “See, I care so much about you that I bought you a scarf.” He threw the stick behind him and lifted his chin up at WinWin. “You should be grateful,” he said as he crossed his arms.

WinWin bowed slightly, thanking Mark for the scarf. “That is very thoughtful of you. I’ve never had anyone give me something like this before.”

Mark, who was _not_ expecting that reply, grew red and became flustered before he even knew it. He decided to pull himself off from the rock and take a walk next to the riverside bank. 

“You know, it’s kinda weird for me to keep calling you ‘WinWin’,” Mark said as he skipped another rock into the river. The rock skipped twice before sinking to the bottom of the river and disappearing from his view completely. Mark grumbled, and threw another rock in, only to have the same result repeat again.

“What do you mean? I already told you I have no name.”

Mark didn’t turn to look at WinWin, he was more focused on his rock skipping, but he still replied. “Yeah, but you’re a mountain spirit, right? You must have had a name before you became one,” he said, bluntly.

WinWin didn’t say anything for a while and Mark continued to throw his stones onto the surface of the water. The latter heard some rustling beside him and he finally decided to look in WinWin’s direction. 

“Where are you going?” Mark asked as WinWin turned his back towards him, walking into the denser parts of the forest. “You’re not leaving me alone, right?!” he shouted after him.

WinWin shrugged and continued walking, not once looking back. Before he disappeared into the forest, he shouted behind him. “If you need me, just shout!” 

And so Mark was left alone beside the riverside bank, holding a small pebble he was meant to throw in the river, in hopes that WinWin did _not_ just leave him in the forest alone.

But alas, WinWin did _not_ return back to him after ten minutes and so Mark decided to suck up every last bit of his pride and venture into the deeper part of the ‘forbidden’ forest.

WinWin told him once, maybe a year ago, that the denser part of the forest was home to the rest of the many mountain spirits that lived there. He had warned him to minimise contact with that part of the forest, as not all the spirits were nice and friendly, nor had good intentions.

And _yet_ , WinWin left him _alone_ in the forest, and since he didn’t know how to get out, he was faced with no other choice than to find WinWin and demand him to bring him home.

If there was one difference about the denser part of the forest and the parts of the forest he was used to, Mark would say that the denser part of the forest was definitely a lot colder. It was meant to be summer and yet every time the wind blew past him, Mark could feel the hair on his arms stand up.

Mark wasn’t scared, he had no reason to be, but he had a gut feeling which told him to get out of the forest as fast as he could. It didn’t matter whether or not he found WinWin, heck, the mountain spirit _lived_ in the forest, of course he would be safe.

And so Mark turned around and tried to trace his steps back to the clearing, but instead all he was met with was a thick blanket of trees. 

He was lost.

It also didn’t help that there was a boy around his age staring straight at him a few metres away.

“Are you a mountain spirit?” Mark asked, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Please don’t hurt me.”

The boy stood his ground and continued staring. He was wearing a white button-up shirt as well as jeans, with a thin jacket hanging off his shoulders. The boy looked nothing like WinWin, he had a cold expression on his face— in contrast to WinWin’s.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the boy finally said. “But you’re a human. Humans don’t normally come here.”

“Are you thirteen?” Mark asked, taking a step back. “You look like you’re my age.”

The boy stared. “I’ve lost count after so many years.”

Mark stayed silent as he debated on whether or not he should run away or fight the boy in front of him. The boy was probably a mountain spirit, so fighting him most likely wouldn't end that well on Mark’s side.

“ ** _Haechan!_ ** ” A cold voice cut through the thick blanket of silence. Mark and the boy, _Haechan_ , whipped their heads to where the voice came from. Upon recognising the figure emerging from the forest, Mark could just feel the relief come off of him.

“WinWin!” Mark cried, running up to the familiar silver-haired man. He hid behind the taller male once he remembered that another mountain spirit was nearby.

“Is he… Dangerous?” Mark asked in a quiet voice, gripping tightly onto the back of WinWin’s red shirt. 

The taller male shook his head. “He’s harmless,” he said, loud enough for Haechan— who was standing a few metres away— to hear. 

Haechan puffed up his chest in annoyance and threw a silent tantrum, before disappearing into the thick forest of trees.

“Thank you for saving me,” Mark stammered, letting go of WinWin’s shirt quickly after Haechan left. “I could barely even move. Thank god you came.”

WinWin held onto Mark’s arm softly as he guided him out of the forest. “Sorry I left you alone,” he said once Mark’s grandmother’s house came into view. “I just needed to take a breather for a second.”

“ _For a second_ ,” Mark scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said that.” 

WinWin shook his head gently, his hair falling over his eyes. “No, I understand why you said it. I’ve known you for five years already and you barely know anything about me, yet I know so much about you. It’s not fair.”

Mark grew silent. He hadn’t learnt enough words to speak his mind, so he let the silence fill in the gaps for the absent words. 

WinWin acknowledged the silence and continued. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. _Everything_ , but only when you turn sixteen. To _really_ make sure you won’t forget about me.”

Apparently five years hadn’t been enough for WinWin, but that was fine. WinWin made it seem like a challenge, and Mark liked challenges. 

  
  


* * *

With just how much the media glorified the two digit number, sixteen was an age everybody wanted to become quickly. There wasn’t much you could do in South Korea once you reached the age of sixteen, though. The most you could do was ride a motorcycle, and that wasn’t really Mark’s cup of tea so he never really understood the hype around turning sixteen.

On the other hand, Mark lasted _another_ three years with a certain mountain spirit who promised to tell him anything he wanted to know once he became of age. So if there was one thing Mark couldn’t do, it was holding down his excitement as he took the bullet train from the city to his grandmother’s town.

“You’re always bringing me something,” WinWin said, eyeing the pot that was being cupped in Mark’s hands. “A flower this time. This is new.”

“They’re sweet peas,” Mark hummed as he placed the pot in the taller one’s hands. “They’re my favourite type of flowers.” He paused for a second. “You don’t know how hard it was to bring this over. My mum thinks I have a secret girlfriend here or something.”

WinWin said nothing and instead raised an eyebrow. “Alright,” he said as he trailed off, eyes fixated on the lavender coloured flower. “It’s really pretty,” WinWin said. “Are they… Do they symbolise anything?”

“Blissful departing,” Mark blurted out without a moment of hesitation. “Something like, ‘ _Thank you for a lovely time’_.”

WinWin nodded with understanding. “ I see. Very fitting.” His eyes left the flower and instead trailed out to the space around them. “I’ll take care of it… Somehow.” WinWin said. “I’m not sure how it’ll grow in the cold environment in winter, but I'll take care of it.”

Mark pulled on WinWin’s arm. “C’mon! Let’s plant it!”

And so WinWin guided Mark into an opening, deep inside the forest. “Do you think this will work?” WinWin asked, touching the soil with his fingertips. “I think the soil is soft enough for us to dig a hole in.” 

Mark stared at the ground in front of him. “I… I didn’t bring a shovel.” He looked down at his hands. “And I am _not_ getting my fingernails dirty.”

WinWin sighed. “Of course you aren’t. Let’s find a stick or something.” He stood up and roamed around the clearing for a while before returning with a few sticks.

Mark deadpanned at the sticks. “I mean, whatever floats your boat, sure.” He grabbed one and started his attempt at digging a hole, but after a minute of not getting anywhere, he tossed the stick aside. “Nope, we’re getting nowhere. You only live once.” 

And before WinWin could even react, Mark pulled a handful of soil out from the ground and tossed it into a nearby bush. 

“Your fingernails…” WinWin quietly murmured. “You said-”

“I know what I said.” Mark leaned over and plucked the small flower pot out from WinWin’s hands. “But you only live once.”

“You teenagers and your slang,” WinWin said, shaking his head. He watched as Mark carefully placed the sweet pea into the hole. 

“You gotta make sure to water it,” Mark said, once the sweet pea was done and planted. “You can’t forget about it.” 

“I would never,” WinWin exclaimed. “I should be offended that you’d even think that.”

* * *

The two stayed in the clearing, talking about Mark’s newfound life as a teenager and reminisced over the fond memories they had made when they first met, until the moon decided to take the sun’s place. 

“We should go now,” Mark said, standing up. “My grandmother’s probably worrying about me.”

“You’ve been doing this since you were ten, I doubt she even notices you’re gone half the time.” WinWin retorted.

Mark stuck his tongue out at the older male. “You suck. C'mon, let's go, bring me back.”

“You _know_ the forest like the back of your hand! You’re just scared of running into other spirits aren’t you?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’ve been through this. Now _please_ , take me back.”

WinWin chuckled as he stood up. “Of course, of course. Come, let’s go.”

The walk back to the house was a short one, Mark didn’t remember the route being this short. He wanted to ask WinWin questions, questions that had been eating him alive ever since he was eight, but now didn’t seem like a good time. Not when his grandmother’s house was in their sight.

“Well, I guess this is me,” Mark said as he stopped walking. “You should head back now.”  
  
WinWin crossed his arms over his chest. “What? Tired of me already?” He puffed his chest out. “I take care of you for how many years? And this is the thanks I get?” 

“No!” Mark whined. “Of course not. If I _was_ tired of you, I wouldn’t be here right now.”  
  
WinWin stifled a laughter and ruffled the shorter one’s hair. “You haven’t changed at all since you were like, what, twelve? You’re so cute.”

Mark shook WinWin’s hand off his head. “Go home!” he pouted. “Stop teasing me.”

“I will, I will,” WinWin said. “I saw you struggling to sit still today— I know, I know.” He held his hand out before Mark could rebut. “I know what you wanna ask. You can ask them all tomorrow.” 

Mark scrunched up his face. “I didn’t ask today because I thought I’d be rude just demanding answers off you the first day back, but if you had _said_ that it was fine, I would’ve already asked.”

WinWin flicked his hand at Mark, gesturing him to go home. “Go to bed, we can talk in the morning.”

“ _Talk in the morning_ ,” Mark mocked. “You’re never around in the morning—”

“I’ll be here tomorrow. I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and I want to take my time answering them. Now scram,” he demanded with a soft smile on his face.

Mark rolled his eyes and turned his back towards him. “Goodnight,” he said, throwing a peace sign up. He started walking towards the house.

WinWin didn’t say anything back, but the quiet rustle of leaves signaled to Mark that WinWin was already long gone.

* * *

The next day, they walked into the clearing where they had planted the sweet pea. WinWin settled himself onto the grass and gestured to Mark to sit next to him. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Mark debated on where to start first.

“I died when I was eighteen,” WinWin said suddenly, picking at the grass at his feet. “Friedreich’s ataxia, with anaemia.” 

Mark’s eyes widened. 

He continued. “I wished upon the stars to not die. It worked- but not the way I wanted.”

There was a pause. 

“The stars granted my wish. They told me that I’d age one year per blood moon, until I reach the age I died. Since I died at eighteen, I’ll live up to eighteen blood moons. One comes every nineteen years, so it’s been a while.”

“So…” Mark calculated in his head. “You’re around 340 years old?”

WinWin nodded. “Around there, yeah.”

Mark pursed his lips, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer to the next question, but he asked nonetheless. “How many moons have you lived for… so far?”

WinWin was quiet for a moment. Mark could tell he was hesitating to answer. Finally, he spoke. “Seventeen,” he said. “The last blood moon I’ll live till, will be when you’re nineteen.”

 _Nineteen_. WinWin’s words rang in Mark’s head. He was sixteen now, which meant WinWin had three more years to live. WinWin, who was practically an older brother to him, would be gone in three years time.

WinWin was talking but Mark couldn’t hear him. His voice sounded far away and it was being drowned out by Mark’s loudly thumping heart.

He stood up, stumbling as he did, and held onto his head as he walked. He had to leave, he couldn’t stand being next to WinWin right now.

“Wait—” WinWin moved quickly and held onto his arm. 

Mark pulled his arm away. “Sorry, I just—”

“My name is Sicheng,” the silver-haired man said. “Sicheng.” The name seemed foreign as it rolled off his tongue. 

Mark didn’t turn around, instead, he continued walking.

He couldn’t stand looking at the mountain spirit. Not now.

* * *

Mark’s sixteenth summer holidays went by slowly. He no longer went into the forest, nor did he spare a second glance at the mountain spirit who would stand on the opposite side of the fence. He spent most of his time indoors, keeping his grandmother company.

“You haven’t been going into the forest for quite some time,” Mark’s grandmother said, the night before Mark’s departure back to the city.

Mark stayed silent, before setting down the cup he held in his hands. “Grandmother, do you believe in mountain spirits?”

His grandmother looked surprised and held onto Mark’s hands. “I’ve heard many rumors that they live in the forest outside my house. Tell me, dear. Have you met one?”

Mark hesitantly nodded. “I’ve grown up with one. He’s played with me since I was eight.”

Mark’s grandmother sighed. “I’d always worry about how you had no friends here, or why you were always in the forest,” his grandmother said with a sad smile. “But you always came back looking so happy I realised there was probably nothing to be afraid of. Turns out there was someone else taking such good care of you.”

Mark bit his lip. “Yeah, I’m really thankful for him.”

* * *

The moment Mark stepped onto the bullet-train, the following morning, he felt a huge wave of frustration and regret wash over him.

He had three more years with him, one hundred and fifty-six weeks, one thousand and ninety-five days. _Too short_ , Mark concluded. _Too short to waste time mopping about it._

And so the following summer holiday, Mark practically drowned the mountain spirit with sweet peas— as well as pink carnations, which Mark told him meant ‘ _I’ll never forget you_.’

Sicheng forgave Mark, telling him that his reaction was of the norm, but Mark couldn’t help but feel bad. He had wasted an entire summer with him, despite knowing he didn’t have long left. 

Mark made sure that he made as many memories as possible with Sicheng within the next two years. That way, he could bid the mountain spirit farewell without any tears nor regrets.

  
  


* * *

The young adult had done his research, so he knew that tonight was the final night before Sicheng had to part ways with him.

They sat on the riverside bank, staring off at the calm landscape of the forest. Mark caught Sicheng’s eyes in the reflection of the water. “Remember when you left me here? Wasn’t very fun.”

“You see, I _wanted_ to get rid of you, but I was too nice and just couldn’t.”

Silence engulfed them. 

It wasn’t awkward, no, nothing of the sort. It was never awkward with Sicheng. Mark took the silence as time to think, time to plan out his next words, his next sentence.

“Is it weird that I’m dreading to go?” Sicheng asked, stretching his arms out. “But at the same time, I’m quite…” he struggled to find the right word.

“Relieved?”

Sicheng nodded. “In a way, yeah. I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s tonight.”

Mark wanted to rebut against that statement, but at that moment, Sicheng seemed so at peace that Mark decided to swallow back his words.

* * *

Just before sunset, Mark led Sicheng into the clearing where they had planted the sweet pea. It had grown within the past three years— many more flowers had been brought in, with the courtesy of Mark.

But the sweet pea was special. All the other flowers were crowded, with different colours and scents merging together. But not for the sweet pea, instead, it had its own space, away from the other flowers, in the center of the clearing.

They laid down on both sides of the single standing sweet pea. 

Sicheng’s silver hair was decorated with fallen petals of various colours, and soft blades of grass caressed his cheek, as his hair - along with the petals - blew along the summer breeze. It was the golden hour, right before the sun would set, and Sicheng’s skin shined beneath the golden rays.

As the sun setted and the sky dipped into darkness, Mark wondered how he came to be here. Lying in an open clearing, surrounded by flowers, accompanied by a forest spirit— with fallen petals dancing lightly on his exposed skin.

They stayed like that for a while, Mark wasn’t sure how long they’d laid there, looking at the stars.

“You won’t forget again, will you?” Sicheng asked him.

Mark didn’t know how to reply. He wasn’t sure if he would, he had no way to tell the future. 

“Don’t worry.” He stretched out an arm in front of him, his palm facing up towards the stars. “I wouldn’t forget a tale like this.”

Sicheng laughed. “I wonder about that. I bet you’ll completely forget by tomorrow.”

“And is that so bad?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “I mean, if there _are_ better days to come…” He trailed off. 

Sicheng didn’t say anything, but Mark knew he wasn’t upset at what he said. It felt weird, knowing your best friend of eleven years will disappear in a few minutes, as if he had never existed. 

And that most likely _will_ be the case. Mark was the only one who knew of Sicheng’s existence, if you exclude the other spirits, and Mark’s grandmother would have most likely forgotten about their conversation by now. 

Mark could feel his eyelids slowly getting heavy, despite him trying his hardest to stay awake. He didn’t want to go just yet. It was too early, too soon to say his last goodbye to Sicheng, but the stars were shining brighter and the moon was arising from its slumber. The minutes were slipping away, through his grasping fingers and pleading lips and before he’d know it, Sicheng would be gone with the rising moon.

“We’ll meet again somewhere, won’t we?” Sicheng’s voice broke Mark out of his daze.

“Of course we will.” 

Mark took one last tired glance up at the moon peeking out from a distant cloud before turning his head to look at Sicheng. Sicheng was already looking back at him, with stars filling his eyes. The cool summer breeze ruffled through his hair as a small smile lingered on his lips. 

“You should probably go to sleep now,” Sicheng quipped. “I can tell you’re tired.”

Mark frowned but couldn’t find the energy to argue back. “Right,” he said as he slowly closed his eyes, giving away to fatigue and exhaustion. “I’ll see you later.”

He restrained himself from saying anything more. Gratefulness, sorrow— he combined every emotion he had felt at that moment into those four last words. 

_“Of course. I’ll see you later.”_

It felt like Sicheng whispered that to him until the very end. 

* * *

Mark woke up at daybreak, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a few early bloomers on the cherry blossom tree above him swaying in the breeze, small but strong. He planted it with Sicheng last year.

He sat up.

He didn’t remember it being so big yesterday. It was then he realised he was no longer laid upon grass. Instead, the sweet pea had bloomed and spread across the clearing, with the biggest and prettiest blooms on where Sicheng laid the night before. 

“Blissful departing,” Mark said to the empty space around him. “ _Thank you for a lovely time._ ”

Perhaps this was Sicheng’s way of saying thank you, for he was already with the moon.

Mark lifted himself up, brushing the petals off of him. It was time for him to head back to his grandmother’s, to live the rest of the summer out.

Summer had never felt so long before. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed that! This was my piece for the nct/wayv fleur zine and I'm really happy to have been able to participate in it! Not sure if anyone has caught on but this is loosely based off Hotarubi no Mori e! ^__^ 
> 
> Thank you for reading this, and I hope you have a nice day/night <3


End file.
